Washed Ashore
This poem paints a before and after picture of what the worlds beaches - and by extension, the environment as a whole, - used to be like not so long ago, and what they have become over a relatively short period of time.
More importantly, what will earths beaches be like in the coming years? Will the situation improve?
What do you think?
-
pending
- Posted on 03/26/24
in Environment Poems
In a time not that long ago
during days of yonder lore,
the ocean waves would spend their days
washing up pretty things ashore.
In a time not that long ago
during days of yonder lore,
the ocean waves would spend their days
washing up pretty things ashore.
Seashells, starfish, precious coral...
were the treasures upon the beach,
searching here and there about
we would gather handfuls each.
The sand was white, pure, and clean
or sometimes pink, light grey,
depending on which beach on earth
you'd choose to make your way.
On many occasions throughout the summer
our family there would meet,
we'd jump and play and skip about
upon the sand beneath bare feet.
The ocean breeze was cool and fresh
yes, embracing it would be,
with a hint of salt and brininess
ahh, from stress we were set free.
The water there was clear and blue
and if I listened carefully,
"Come to me and be refreshed",
the sea would say to me.
--------------------------
In a time that was more recent
perhaps last week or yesterday
I was at the beach and what I seen
is truly sad to say,
The ocean waves had spent the day
washing peculiar things ashore,
quite different than the pretty things
of the days of yonder lore.
A lonely shoe without its twin,
a broken bottle razor sharp,
a coffee cup in the state of decay
the carcass of a shark.
Plastic bottles everywhere
I couldn't see the sand,
plastic bags and candy wraps
a latex glove from someone's hand.
A plastic doll missing an arm
bottle caps and cans,
there was litter from sources locally
but much more from foreign lands.
I wore my shoes upon the sand
where I stepped, I was discreet,
lest I stepped on something sharp
and wounded both my feet.
The ocean breeze conveyed a malodor
with notes of petrol in the mix,
far from feeling ahh, refreshed
I started feeling rather sick.
The water was dark with a murky hue
and carried a thick grey foam,
dismayed and sad at what I had seen
I made my way back home.
-------------------------
Will we yet again see such a time
a time I'm sure we all long for,
when the ocean waves again spend their days
washing pretty things ashore?
Will the treasures upon the beach again
be the things we like to seek?
Will the sand again be pure and clean
and safe for our bare feet?
Will the ocean breeze be cool and crisp
embracing our senses, quelling our stress?
Will the water again be blue and clear
enticing us to be refreshed?
Let's hope for such a time
and that it may not be so far away,
that all our sons and all our daughters
may have clean beaches on which to play.
Let's hope for such a time
when better days will be in store,
when pretty things upon the beach
will be the only things washed ashore.
©2024
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